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by TheEvilMuffinToaster
Summary: AU: They were sub-humans in the great controller's eyes. Being only marionettes in his master plan, they housed broken souls and possessed cracked mentality. They lived for one purpose and one purpose only: To create the perfect human-being. M for shota
1. Aichmophobia

**Сдаваться  
**AU: _They were sub-humans in the great controller's eyes. Being only marionettes in his master plan that housed broken souls and cracked mentality, they lived for one purpose and one purpose only: To create the perfect human-being._

* * *

Chapter One:  
**Aichmophobia - **is a kind of specific phobia, the morbid fear of sharp things, such as pencils (like needles, knives, a pointing finger, or even the sharp end of an umbrella). It is derived from the Greek _aichmē_ (point) and _phobos_ (fear).

* * *

**London****, ****England**** - 1889**

_He looked upon the body with a childish glint in his blue eyes._

_Some had claimed that his blue eyes could rival the sky in color. To him, they were ugly. They had reflected the guilt and many emotions he had locked away years ago. When he looked into a mirror, he could see the lock to those bottled away emotions start to jiggle. Though the man who had taken him in said they were gorgeous; he was not moved by it. He still hated his eyes. He despised every bit and piece about himself; from the cowlick on the top of his head to the beaten worn-out leather boots on his feet._

_He kicked at the ground, the snow crunching under his boot. It was nearing Christmas, wasn't it? A bitter laugh escaped his life. Christmas day was the day he had escaped Hell. Christmas was his and his friend's celebration; it was basically the day the both of them had been reborn._

From something ugly, a thing of beauty can be reborn.

_A crow cawed in the distance and an Owl hooted in return. His head snapped up and he sent a glance to the moon. It was full and nearly smothered by the colors of pink, red and orange that bled its colors across the sky like colored dye. It was obvious that dawn was approaching. It was time to make his escape._

**XXXXX**

**Somewhere in ****England****, 1875**

He was bathed in bright light as it seemed; the painful rays of brightness stabbing his closed eyelids. He dared not to move in fear of disrupting the Scientist's work. In the world he lived in, he and all others had to obey the Scientist's very whim. If one was told never to move, they never moved. If one was told to not breathe, they would not breathe.

It was a game of survival. You had to obey at all costs – or the price would be your life.

Some had the choice of keeping their eyes closed while they underwent their testing; some had to have their eyes pried open if it was the whim of the scientist. He had been lucky; to receive the nice scientists instead of the horrific ones who caused pain for fun.

His breath hitched as his earlobe was pinned back. Stay silent, breath quietly. He told himself. This of all times was not the moment to hit the ceiling in fear.

Since he had arrived at his Hell on Earth, he had noticed that once a month on every third Thursday at exactly four p.m. on the dot, the prime Test Subjects of a certain section would undergo experiments that were twice as consolidated as their normal tests and undergo excruciating pain.

And with just his luck, he had become one of the unlucky bastards who had to go through with that.

Steel shackles bound him to the metal operation table he laid upon. Two leather belts crossed over his chest like an 'X' and rendered him immobile. His legs felt like lead. Two men were on either him; faces grim and gaunt in appearance and dressed in complete white.

He hated the color white.  
It was absence of all color, the absence of all life. The polar opposite to black – the mixture of all colors; the mixture of all life.

"Which one is this one?" The man in white on his left asked. This man was defiantly new. He may be a sub-human in their eyes and in the all knowing eyes of the controller's eyes, but most knew who he was and those who did not could easily remember. In their exact words, he had "eyes to die for".

He may have liked his eyes thankyouverymuch, but not enough to die for them.

Yes, the man was new. He did not fit the description of his normal scientists. Older male, dark eyes, flattened nose, wrinkles around the mouth and eyes, and gray, thinning blond hair. There were three other men he was used to being his scientists. "Big Nose", "Pince-nez" and "Steve". Sure, he could easily ask the men for their names, but he never bothered too.

_Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer _had been the infamous quote many lived by in the facility.

"S-9182. But others call him Alfred." The other man on his right replied. Ah, Steve. Steve was been his favorite scientist of all. The man was the only one out of all of them to treat him as if he was an actual human being. The thought stung though. To them, to the controller and all others, he was nothing but a living, breathing test subject; used only when there was something to be tested and thrown away when it serves its purpose.

Did he not cry? Did he not smile? Did he not laugh in joy when that one French kid cracked perverted jokes to lighten the mood?

"Hey Steve," Alfred said, closing his eyes once more. He hated watching the pain that would flicker across Steve's face as his body twitched and spasmed when the drug he was testing finally kicked in. Each sector had certain drugs they had to test. The primary subjects received the strongest and most harmful ones while the other subjects received the weakest and painless ones.

Lucky Bastards.

"How long has this one been here?"

"Considering he's one of the prime subjects of the Strength Sector, it's a miracle of how he's survived here for so long. He arrived here when he was four, I believe and its been eight years. His date of birth is the Fourth of July, 1866 and he is from America. His name is Alfred F. Jones and is currently twelve years of age."

"Damn."

"That was my reaction too."

"Shall we begin then?"

"…Of course."

With that, Alfred knew to keep himself braced for the pain that would come soon. Sure, he had it easier than others. Where as Honda Kiku of the Mind Sector was forced to deal with the haunting, frightening, gruesome images that would scar the Japanese boy for all eternity. It was what he was forced to do to stay alive in this world. Alfred had it much, much easier – though it was still painful.

He was the Prime Subject of the Strength Sector. The sector pretty much consisted of him and him alone. His job was to test strength-boosting drugs such as steroids and human chorionic gonadotropin. He had to take on extreme doses of these drugs that would be _hazardous_ and_ poisonous_ to a human of normal standards. To them, he was sub-human and was immune to this law in the Controller's eyes.

And with a deep breath, the pain had begun.

* * *

To say Ivan Braginsky's had a bad day would be an _understatement_. There were several reasons actually.

He hated his job for one.

He was a scientist for some whack job who wanted to create a perfect human being. He experimented on little children and transformed them into super _freakizoid_ humans. Then when all the prime subjects had reached their limit, the Controller (it was what his boss wanted to be called) would all morph their DNA together and create the perfect human.

He really hadn't been paying attention when the guy had been explaining everything.

He hated his boss. The guy was way out of his league and was going to get himself brutally and painfully murdered by one of the children.

He hated most of the children there. Except for a few. A spare few. He hated all the rest.

He sighed.  
Currently, he was in his room; face-down on the couch like the lazy bastard he was. He really wanted to just sleep, but the damn screams were keeping him awake.

Screams in German, screams in French, screams in Chinese, screams in Russian, screams in Belarusian, screams in Spanish. The monthly testing had begun.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

**Music: **_She is the New Thing_ – The Horrors  
_The Horror of Our Love_ – Ludo  
_Lord Abortion_ – Cradle of Filth  
_Falling inside the Black _– Skillet

NOMNOMNOM. That is all. Hahaha.

The idea for this…story? Yeah we'll call it that for now. The idea for this story came from a dream of mine where a Russian girl was forced to become a test-subject in attempts to create the perfect human-being. She does not remember her real name and has no memories of her past except for a the blurry images of a man by the name of "Artie" and a girl named "Alasta". And there is the fact that she can see when people will die. When she was in the facility, her mentality cracked and she went insane and killed most of her inmates before the scientists attempted to sedate her. She was rescued by Eve Ellen, another man who could see the deaths of others and worked at the facility. Eve had given her a name: Alastor Crowdeclough. After years passed, Alastor had become a famous serial murderer who many thought was someone who had no emotions for how brutally the victims were killed. The detective Arthur Pendrowsky (who can never remember anyone's name) is put on the case and well, that's when shit really hits the fan.

Hehe.


	2. Agateophobia

**Сдаваться  
**AU: _They were sub-humans in the great controller's eyes. Being only marionettes in his master plan that housed broken souls and cracked mentality, they lived for one purpose and one purpose only: To create the perfect human-being._

* * *

Chapter Two:

**Agateophobia **- (from Greek aγορά, "marketplace"; and φόβος/φοβία, -phobia) is an anxiety disorder, it is the fear of Insanity.

* * *

**Outskirts of Bristol, England – 1876**

_He'd been running for hours, not stopping even though his lungs burned with each breath he took. Breath through the nose, focus on the slapping on his feet on the pavement; ignore the pain; ignore the pain. That's what they taught him. Ignore the pain and focus on the problem at hand._

_He reached a small body of water and he collapsed onto his knees at the sight of the clear pond water. Maybe there was someone up there who still liked him. Sure, his belief in god was nonexistent, but there had to be someone up there who liked him right?_

_With bright blue eyes, he stared down at the clear water of the pond; watching his reflection in the water. Was that him? That wasn't him. The hair was disheveled, the bright blue eyes were not full of life but instead full of fear, the cowlick eerily similar to his own was sagging slightly and the skin was gaunt and sickly. Blood was splattered across the pale cheekbones and had seeped into the pale white cotton of the torn shirt. With nimble fingers, he touched his cheek; feeling the wetness of the red blood stain his pale fingers._

_God, he was shaking more than that Latvian kid._

_He slapped the water and distorted the image of him in the pond water. He wasn't all that thirsty anymore. Every inch of him hurt all over. His arms, his legs, his face, his lungs, his feet. In all truth, he just wanted to collapse in the nearest field and pass out with the feeling of the sun on his face._

"_Alfred!"_

_He whipped around to see Ivan. Had-Had they followed him? Would they take him back to that _place _and execute him because he disobeyed the laws? _

"_I'm not going back!" He shouted. _

"_I'm not going to bring you back." Ivan replied._

"_I said – wait, what?"_

"_I said that I'm not going to bring you back to the facility."_

"_You aren't!"_

"нет_. Do you think that I'd really run twenty something miles just bring you back to the place I hate with a passion of a thousand burning suns? I care, but I don't care that much."_

"_So, why'd you come follow after me if you don't care?"_

_Ivan shrugged. "I need a change of pace." He smiled. "What do you say Alfred. Care to start a new life with me?" The Russian scientist outstretched a hand to the small preteen boy, who looked at the hand as if it had suddenly just turned to gold._

_Alfred, seeing no other available option at hand, took the hand without a thought and sealed his fate._

**XXXXX**

**Somewhere in England - 1875**

The nineteen year old Russian sighed, leaning against the wall lazily. He tightened the brown scarf around his neck and shrugged the white lab coat back over his shoulders which had been slipping off. He hated Thursdays. No, not Mondays like a normal person, but Thursday. Everything bad seemed to occur for him on Thursdays.

Like today, it was his turn to guide the children to the execution chamber. _Yay_.  
He sighed.

The children who failed their weekly exams had to die; the facility would not accept weakness. Though who could not survive in this world were immediately executed. Those who passed the exams got to stay on as Test subjects. He supposed it was Win/Lose situation. On one hand, with being executed, you were freed from this hell on earth; no longer being a test subject for some whackjob while on the other hand you were also being taken from the world and being passed onto the world of the dead.

And for those ones who lived through the weekly exams, you got to live on with your life, yet you were still forced to undergo painful experiments.

Life was such a bitch.

Sighing, he pushed off of the wall and tightened his scarf and threw it over his shoulders. It was time to lead the children to their doom as some would say.

The facility ran strangely. It was organized, clean, and was completely inconspicuous to the rest of world. It was like it never existed. The Scientists who worked here never talked and were paid to keep their mouths shut and closed or else they'd meet the same fate as the executed children. Test-subjects knew they would never escape, so there were rarely ever any riots. The subjects may have been treated like they were sub-humans, but they were still fed and clothed properly.

Ivan didn't know any knowledge as to why the facility was built. He understood the Controller's frustration with Human-kind, but why would someone want to go as far as using children as test subjects to do so?

There were four levels in the 'Hell on Earth' the subjects had so kindly dubbed the facility. Levels consisted of sectors that certain test subjects belonged too. For each sector, there were prime subjects who underwent the most painful experiments of all. Each sector represented a certain trait of what the Controller thought was the perfect human being.

Level One was Sectors A through H – Sectors Appendage, Birth, Control, Death, Emotion, Failure, Gift and Hatred.  
Level Two covered Sectors I through P which was Sectors Intelligence, Jokes, Kill, Love, Mind, Nerves, Operation, and Pain.  
Level Three was Sectors Q through X or Sectors Quincy, Rainbow, Strength, Taste, Upside, Vengeance, Weird and Xenophobic  
And Level Four only consisted of the two sectors Y and Z. From the rumors he heard from both the scientists and children was that the two sectors that the Controller favored most. Y was supposed to stand for 'Ying-yang' and Z was said to stand for 'Zero'.

He shrugged. They weren't his assigned sectors so he really didn't care. His sectors were the Mind, Nerves and Strength sector. He sighed again (this was becoming a daily occurrence now as it seemed) and remembered that he had to go visit the Test Subject of the Strength sector soon.

Without knowing, Ivan almost ran headfirst into the room where the children that had failed the exam were being kept. Inside he heard the screams of an Italian.

"_No! Where's Ludwig? Luuuuudwig! Waaaaaaah!"  
"Shut that kid up!"  
"Don't hit meeee!"_

With a grimance, he pushed open the door. It was time to do his job.

He had to get paid anyway.

* * *

With cold violet eyes, he watched the children be lead to their doom. Test Subjects who had passed the test with flying colors herded the doomed children along; attempting not to look into their pleading hopeful eyes. They had failed the test, they knew this, and they could not be saved. Ivan Braginsky could not help but watch as the Italian boy held his head low, crying softly in Italian. The boy sat upon the chair and all the other failed subjects watched on silently.

"Subject G-0978, sub-human name Feliciano Vargas," A dull voice rang out. "You failed the weekly test. You have been put on the list to be executed. Do you have any last words to say before you are executed?"

"J-Just tell mi _fratello _that I love him and tell Ludwig I-I-I'll see him on the other side o-okay?" The Italian's voice was still quivering, but it was still full of that childlike innocence the boy possessed.

"Very well. Good-bye."

_Click_.

The room was silenced as the ominous sound of a bullet being unleashed from the barrel rang through the air. Without any hesitation, Feliciano gasped and slumped forward; immediately silenced. The Italian boy fell forward and hit the floor, rolling over slightly to reveal a small bullet wound in his forehead. The boy's eyes were wide and glassy and his cheeks were slowly fading from their red color as the blood drained from him.

"Lovi will be very sad…" Ivan turned around slightly to meet the brown eyes of the other doctor, Antonio. Antonio's name was too long for anyone to remember (because it was well implied that most of the staff here had the memory span of a rock, if not of a pebble) so most of them just called him Antonio or just Tony.

"Lovino Vargas you mean?"

"Uh-huh. Feliciano was his hermano." Ivan could only guess that hermano was the Spanish word for the English word 'Brother'. "They weren't all that close, but the love was still there."

"Who is Ludwig?"

"Uh, boy from the what was it…Control sector? Yeah! They were best amigos. A lot say Ludwig and Feli had little boy-crushes on each other~!"

"That's exciting. Now please excuse me, I have to go drink this image out of me."

"The image of a Feliciano being executed?"

"No, the image of you being a moron. Good-bye."

Before Antonio could cause his brain to aneurysm anymore, Ivan had strode past the Spanish man and disappeared out the door.

**

* * *

**

Alfred ached all over. It hurt to breath, it hurt to move, it hurt to sit, it hurt _everywhere_. It felt like he had been personally God's bitch for a night.

"A-Alfred-kun?" A stuttering voice asked from the doorway of his room. He didn't even bothering pulling away the covers from his face. He just grunted to show that he was listening.

"Can I sleep with you?"

"Why?"

"Because Yao-nii is sharing the bed with Yong Soo-teme." Even though Kiku was four years older than Alfred in both appearance, voice and age, the Japanese test subject still somehow pulled off looking so…innocent.

It was a wonder on how the Asian had not yet gotten raped.

He sighed and pulled away the covers from his face. He was really too kind towards everyone here. But he was hero.

"Fine Kiku. But man, aren't you a little old for this?"

"Thank you Alfred-kun." Weirdly enough, Alfred liked having someone in the same bed as him. Even though he was getting too damn big to keep doing this and his bed seemed to be shrinking, it was such a comfortable feeling that seemed like it would be a long time before he gave this up.

Secretly, he sighed. He really needed to man up...

* * *

Well into the late hours of the night and in the early hours of the morning, Alfred rolled over in the dark to land on something soft and squishy. He reached underneath him to pull it out and turned to the side to do so, but just ended up landing on more squishy things.

"Kiku?"

"Hai, Alfred-kun?"

"Why are all your stuffed animals in my bed?"

Kiku fidgeted slightly. "Well, since I am not sleeping in my own bed and I only brought Pochi-kun to sleep with me, I felt bad for all the rest and brought them all into your bed so I could sleep with all of them."

"…Kiku?"

"Hai?"

"You're such a slut."

**

* * *

**

A.N:

lmao. Inwardly I was totally crying at the Feli part. I feel so bad for killing of Feliciano but well, err, it's all for the sake of the plot. OMG, DON'T HIT ME PLEAZE. I DON'T WANT TO DIE.

If I tell you all that there will be shota-con in the near future you won't kill me, yes/yes?

And lmao, this has to be so terrible compared to my other writing (hackhacksorry Otaku, I'll get to CSS soon enoughhackhack) because as much as I like tragic violent scenes, my forte is with perverted humor, not perverted angst. :D

*****Next Chapter: Super happy fun time meeting with Ivan*****


	3. Brontophobia

**Сдаваться  
**AU: _They were sub-humans in the great controller's eyes. Being only marionettes in his master plan that housed broken souls and cracked mentality, they lived for one purpose and one purpose only: To create the perfect human-being._

* * *

Chapter Three:

**Brontophobia**- is an abnormal fear of thunder and lightning, a type of specific phobia. It is a treatable phobia that both humans and animals can develop. The term astraphobia comes from the Greek words "asteri" (star) and "phobos" (fear)

* * *

**Somewhere in England – 1875**

Kiku had long ago fallen asleep. Alfred lied silently in the bed they currently shared together, one arm underneath his head and the other wrapped around his stomach. Silently, he stared at the Japanese boy, who was sleeping quietly; his small chest going up and down in his sleep. Up. Down. Up. Down. How could Kiku never sleep without having any nightmares? When Alfred shut his eyes, all he saw was flashes of blinding white light that streaked across his vision like flashes of hot lightening –

_Ztchashakchaztchzzzz–…_

It was static. The noise filled his head like an endless mantra. The voices, they chanted the same thing every time he heard them. "Alfred" "Kill" "Alfred" "Repent" "Alfred" "Never Again". The voices were like bugs in a jar; buzzing relentlessly in his ear. The bugs he could not escape. They buzzed in his ear like endless static; telling him what to do and controlling him from the inside.

_Stchaztchastchzzzzz_Kill_shtchadtchzzzz_NeverAgain_ctzhzzzz_

He shuttered. The noises; they never left him alone. They'd disappear for a period of time but he'd always await their return. He knows they'll come again. They always do; they always return. He gets no satisfaction from their disappearance. He is too afraid of their return to relish in the fact that they were gone for the time being.

There was no one who knew of the voices' existence. Everyone would think he was crazy. Crazier than he already was at least.

He was a freak of nature that he was. He could bench press ten grown men and probably an elephant with one hand and his strength just kept increasing. He had no muscle to show for the weight he could lift, but the amount of drugs they pushed into him daily was probably enough to kill his immune system. It hadn't yet.

_Chtzwrtchzzzzz-_pent_Schzzzz_Repent_CtzhAYAAHHHSctchassazzzz_Help_– _

He squeezed his shut; wincing at the bolt of pain that shot through him. The voices, they told him to do things. He never did them. He never wanted too. He never will. They told him to kill his friends, kill the scientists, to repent, to help them. Help them with what? That he never knew. He didn't want to know.

He just wanted to go to sleep.

* * *

When Kiku awoke that morning, he expected to come face to face with Alfred. What he came face-to-face with instead was someone completely opposite of Alfred. Yesterday, he had decided to sleep in the same bed as Alfred F Jones, the boy (and his friend) from the Strength sector, because he had been having nightmares again. It was true that he had been lying when he had said his brother Yao had been busy. He just wanted to spend the night with Alfred. In reality, he wanted to be near someone comforting. Even though, half-way through the night he had left most of his stuffed-animals in his room and had felt slightly bad for leaving them all behind and brought them all into Alfred's bed.

Alfred had called him a slut.

Thinking on it, where was Alfred? It was Friday wasn't it? Quietly and softly, he sighed. Friday was probably the most well favorite day of the week for any test subject. Friday was the day they all got a rest; their personal holiday so it was called. They all got breaks from everything as it seemed, but on Saturday, the tests started right back up again. Friday was a day they all cherished.

He shuttered slightly as he remembered Thursday's experiments. They had been terrible. Luckily, he had not had any nightmares and had slept dreamlessly, but the experiments he had been forced through the day before had kept him up almost half the night.

_Mouth open in terror; screams bouncing off the wall and vibrating throughout their entire body. The entire room was covered in blood; light, maroon red blood that stained everything it touched like a curse. It was a painful sight. It splattered up and down the walls and across the once pure white carpet. The victim below him was panting with silent tears running down their face like a flowing river. The desire to lick them away was overpowering. He could feel the person beneath him shutter as his tongue licked away the tears._

Always. He was always the killer. No matter what he did, what he attempted to think. He was always the killer, the attacker, the rapist. Always and forever.

_Cuts and bruises marred their skin and their arms were bound behind their back and they were on their back; knees folded underneath them. It looked like a painful position. It _was _a painful position. The victim's face was purple and bloody. Their lips were bruised and bloody and looked like they had been completely bitten through and both eyes were a dark violent purple, if not a murky black. Their nose was crooked and their dark hair was matted with blood. _

Their blood, he reminded himself. He was never injured in these…dreams. Ever.

_Cuts marred their cheeks and the worst of the cuts was the the cuts that stretched from the edges of their lips to their ears; baring a resemblance to a bloody, cruel smile. Even if he didn't kill them, they would be forever scarred with an endless smile. The Glasgow grin it was called. And if he was right, he knew exactly what would come next _

_Against his actions, his fist swung forward; hitting the victim directly in the stomach. They screamed; violently, murderously. The pain could be heard in their wails of terror. The sound of ripping flesh as the victim's face was ripped around entered his ears. The Glasgow grin was such an ironic thing. A smile meant happiness. But the Glasgow only brought pain._

He shuttered. Away from those images now, he told himself silently. Back onto the point.

When Kiku woke up that morning, he came face to face with someone the exact opposite of Alfred. Someone who was calm, quiet and lazy. Someone who he shared a love of cats with. Someone who he had a little crush on…. (Not like he'd ever admit it)

Heracles.  
Heracles Karpusi.

Kiku secretly wondered why Alfred had replaced Heracles with himself. He atttemtped to move away from the Grecian boy, but was stopped as he felt an arm pull him closer to the body he was attempting to escape from. Heracles shifted closer and the shaggy brown hair that covered his forehead shifted slightly. Kiku leaned forward and read the words that were written on the eastern European's forehead.

'_Hey Kiku! Apparently I have a meeting with Big-Nose Braginsky and everything, so I have to run. You looked lonely so I put you in the same bed as Heracles. Hope you don't mind. Gotta run; running out of room on Herc.'s forehead. –Alfred ((P.S – Did you know that you meow while sleeping?))_

Kiku immediately a blushed several different shades of red. How did Alfred know? Oh my… he'd immediately die of shame if someone found that out…

"Hmm…Kiku…you smell nice…" If possible, Heracles somehow pulled Kiku closer; immediately causing the Japanese to blush. The test subject scowled and forced out.

"Nani! Take responsibility for your actions!"

Heracles just pulled him closer. "Uh…huh…"

* * *

Alfred sat on the examining table, his legs cast over the side and swinging back and forth like a pendulum. The voices in his head were nothing but whispers now. Their voices were low in sound and he could barely hear them. With blue eyes, he watched his feet swing back and forth. Back and forth, back and forth. He was barefoot at the moment; he really didn't like shoes. They made his feet hurt even though the shoes were perfect sizes and the socks made his skin itch.

"Are you having fun?"

Alfred raised his head to meet the strangely purple eyes of Ivan. Or were they violet? Ivan's eyes were such a strange color. A lot of subjects here had strange colored eyes, such as acid green and gold, but Ivan's violet eyes were not only violet, but they held so many emotions of anger, sadness, fear. All those emotions swirled around in those violet depths.

Did he forget to mention that the voices made him contemplate the choices of life?

__

"Yo Ivan."

"Nice to see that you're as carefree as always," Ivan answered. The man was no longer dressed in a white lab coat, but a brown trench coat and tan scarf instead. It was nearing Christmas time and was getting quite cold.

"So, how have you been this week?"

"Wait," Alfred interrupted. "Where's my original doctor?"

"You mean that Dutch guy?" Ivan asked and Alfred nodded. "He's gone. And won't be coming back. Ever."

"What happened?"

"Not my problem." Ivan shrugged. "And it isn't your either, да?"

"Well come on," Alfred scoffed. "You have to at least _tell _me why he got canned."

"нет."

"Ny…et?"

"нет." Ivan repeated. "It's no for Russian."

"Well then _Braginsky_, who's my new doctor?"

"I am."

Alfred looked at the Russian scientist. "Are you serious man?"

"Da." Alfred looked at him again; confusion swirling in those blue depths. Ivan sighed. "That means 'yes' in Russian."

Alfred nodded. "Okay. Just speak English next time." He leaned back and leaned on his hands. "So Braginsky, what's going to go down here?"

"Basically I'm going to have to test you for the normal things," Ivan replied.

"Like a normal Doctor?"

"Yes, basically." Ivan looked around the room and then settled his sight on Alfred. "To me though, Doctors are nothing but overpaid murderers, don't you agree?"

The Test Subject blinked at Ivan; wondering where this chat was going to go. Was this going to end with him in pain? He had heard many rumors from many of the children and they all had said that Ivan Braginsky was one sadistic, overgrown Russian chalk-full of sarcasm. A few had said that Braginsky's attitude had sent their creepy meter off the scales and others commented that he was nice enough but they'd never want to be stuck in a room alone with him. Ever.

It was like Ivan put Fear and Childish Glee all into one and just came off creepy.

_Sztchlashtcssszzz KILLschtchassss REPENTstchshtczzzdhtlzzz ALFRED_

The voices, they were back.

"Alright, Alfred, take of your shirt, I need to check your heartbeat." Alfred began to take off the white shirt he wore but then suddenly stopped and stared up at the Russian; the expression on his face completely serious.

"I expect you to turn around because you are _not _getting a free show."

Sighing, Ivan put a hand over his eyes and turned around. Why did all children have to be so strange when it came to people seeing their bodies in the nude by people that weren't their parents? It wasn't like they had anything to show. Alfred could be so strange when it came to things.

"Alright, I'm good."

Ivan turned back around and saw the shirtless Alfred aimlessly kicking his feet back and forth. The boy was in surprisingly good shape, but he a slight pudge-gut, but Ivan could see the beginning of muscles starting to form on his arms and abdomen. The Russian pulled out the stethoscope and placed the wooden stethoscope against the boy's chest. It had a six-inch long tube with a chest end of one and a half inch long with the ear piece being two inches in diameter. He smiled as he could feel Alfred shutter; obviously not used to the cold feel of the room around him. He could feel the boy's heart start up and the pale skin start to prickle with goose bumps.

"Cold, Alred?"

"It's freezing in here!"

Ivan laughed. "нет, not as cold as it is in Siberia, да? This is like summer weather compared to that."

Silently, Ivan leaned back and grabbed the sphygmomanometer off of the table next to Alfred and wrapped it around his arm.

"What are you doing?" Alfred asked.

"Taking your blood pressure," Ivan answered.

"Are you just going to go through a normal Doctor's meeting or is there something more to this?"

Hmm. So the boy was smarter than Ivan originally thought he was. No wonder he liked the boy. "Not really, I'm just supposed to now take your temperature –"

"Under my tongue right? 'Cuz the last doctor tried to shove one of those up my ass last time and I think he just wanted to see me naked. He was creepy like that."

"The Rectal thermometers?" Alfred nodded and Ivan giggled. "Well, that is the only _real _way to get an accurate temperature, but unfortunately we don't have any of those on hand…"

Alfred laughed sarcastically. "Oh hahaha, you're splitting my sides. Come on now, get serious. I have a pillow and a bed with my name on it and most likely a very angry Japanese boy who is going to go all batshit on my ass if he catches any sight of me."

Ivan blinked. "Kiku?"

"Yeah Honda. I kind of left him in the same bed with a sleeping Heracles and he is apparently a cuddler."

Ivan nodded. "That's…nice to know?" The way he said it was hesitant. "Well, it was nice knowing you while you were alive at least. I hope he doesn't make you suffer that much."

Alfred could only stare at the Russian. The way the man thought was extremely strange. It was like the man was suffering from a severe Personality Disorder.

Well, whatever. As long as he didn't get poked and prodded at with needles he was alright with everything of course.

_Stchztzstczhhhtcss_Pain_stchazzzz_ –elp_ctscsstchzzzzz_

"Have you ever wondered…why we are alive?" Ivan suddenly asked.

"…" Alfred stared down at the kneeling Russian. "…What do you mean?"

"My faith in God is quite lacking. I don't consider myself an atheist, but yet I don't consider myself a Christian or a Catholic. At times, I wonder if there truly is a god in our world, watching over us like he is said to do." Ivan shrugged. "There is said to be a total population of over six million people in the world today. How can he watch over all of us?"

"I don't believe in God." Alfred said suddenly.

"You don't?"

"I don't."

"Is there any reason for us?"

Alfred looked down at the Russian. "I've been here for over…eight years. At the beginning, I believed someone would come for me – I always had that spark of hope that God would save me. Only when the experiments got tougher and more painful is when I lost my faith. You've seen us all. Don't you agree that there is no God for the sub-human race?"

Alfred then winced when the voices screeched in his ear. They buzzed around and attacked his eardrums. The voices screeched louder

_STHATCCHEZZZ_NEVERAGAIN_STCHZCSZZZZ_REPENT_CTSSHZZZZ_

"Is something wrong?" He noticed the pain that suddenly contorted on Alfred's face.

"What..? Oh it's nothing…"

Ivan finally removed the sphygmomanometer from his arm and the man stood up. He walked over to the other side of the room and picked up a needle. He could guess that Alfred really didn't want to be poked and prodded with needles again and when Alfred found out where _this _needle had to go…

Well, it obviously wasn't going to be a pretty reaction.

"Дa, Alfred, we have to take a flesh sample."

"Yeah, yeah, I know how it goes." The boy held out his arm, wrist up and sighed. "Just get on with it."

Ivan couldn't help but giggle. "…This shot doesn't go there."

"Wait, what? What do you mean it doesn't _go _there. There's not really any other place to get a shot–Oh _shit_." By the look of shock that suddenly appeared on the boy's face; Ivan could only guess that Alfred finally discovered where the needle was going.

"Well flesh shots are very painful because they go several layers of skin, дa? So are you going to deal with the pain or are you going to need me to hold your hand?"

"What? No!"

"Well then stand up, turn around, and drop your pants. We both have lives we have to get on with, дa?"

* * *

**Author Notes:**

PFFT. My best friend is jabbing me in the shoulder screaming that "COME ON, BRING ON THE PORN MAN." But Dude, I just can't _magically _make Ivan and Alfred like each other because right now, Ivan sees Alfred as a source of amusement and Alfred sees him as a future pedophile because what kind of normal nineteen year old tells a twelve year to drop his pants?

Well, at least none of the nineteen year olds I know do at least. They're at least fairly normal.

AND LIKE OMG. I changed the rating to 'M' because there is going to be a lot of violence here man. And Doro finally returned the draft of my story and upon reading it, the M is not only going to be needed for the violence but for something completely different. I plan on following the plot of the original story as well as I can. Excluding the fact that the main in the original is a girl and the main has a fling with a boy in the 'E' sector.

And those voices, damn they kill my spell check. AND DAMNIT, I won't lie. At all. But there will be Shota-con and you're probably all like "Wtfomfgbbq" but I have to say that I do not support pedophilia in way of the sort and I know people who are victims of pedophilia so I will try to _offend _anyone. Just don't flame for no reason man. Give me a good reason and I won't be pissed.


	4. Catoptrophobia

**Сдаваться  
**AU: _They were sub-humans in the great controller's eyes. Being only marionettes in his master plan that housed broken souls and cracked mentality, they lived for one purpose and one purpose only: To create the perfect human-being._

* * *

Chapter Four:

**Catoptrophobia**: or Spectrophobia (from Latin: spectrum, " image") or eisoptrophobia is a kind of specific phobia involving a morbid fear of mirror s and the dread of seeing one's own reflection. Psychoanalyst Sándor Ferenczi attributed it in one case to two main causes: fear of self-knowledge and fright from exhibitionism

* * *

**Somewhere in England – 1875**

"…What?" was the only real word Alfred was able to stutter out at the current moment. Did the scientist actually just _ask _him that? Alright, sure, he was well aware of the fact that some of the scientist attempted to take advantage of some test subjects, but it was a well known fact that you _don't fuck _with the Strength sector unless you want to die. Painfully. He wasn't the only living subject and he could throw around full grown cattle so…

What?

"What?"

Ivan sighed. Really, why was he sighing so much lately? "I'm sorry," By Ivan's tone of voice, Alfred could tell the nineteen year old Russian was everything but sorry, "but I need to take the flesh sample and the cheeks are the only part of the adolescent body that would have enough tissue for a sample…Unless you'd like a shot to the dick, I'd think that you'd prefer getting a shot there rather than _there_. …Unless you're into that, of course."

Just the way he _phrased _it pissed Alfred off. The voices screeched one more in his eardrum; warning him of imaginary danger and telling him to repent. Repent for what? He asked silently. That's what he'd love to know.

_STCHCHTSSZZZ_REPENT_BSZZARTCHASSSS_KILLHIM_ZTCHSSSS_AIYAHHH_STZZ–_

"Fine, fine," he said casually; as if there weren't psychotic voices screeching in his ears like bugs in a jar. "But is this going to be a common occurrence? Cuz' if so, I'm just gonna' start coming in naked."

Ivan coughed awkwardly into his fist. "No, this won't be a normal procedure. But you and I will have these 'lovely' meetings every Friday, да?"

_STCTZZZ_HELP_CHSSSBYZZZZZ_REPENT_TCHST–_

"Alright, then no shirt."

"Are you just trying to find a reason to come in naked?"

"What? No. Nononononono_no_. No where near close. I'm just saying that I don't want to have to be wearing extra clothing if I'm not even going to need it anyway. Do you understand?"

Nodding his head, Ivan just merely relied with a simple: "I have no clue what you _are _saying, but I understand that I need to get a flesh sample."

Alfred stood up and turned around and dropped his pants. He spared a withering glare at the Russian. "Just get the sample and don't stare at the scar – it's self-conscious."

_SKACSZAKATCHAKSZSZ_KILLTHEMALL_SHCKATVSBYYZASSSS_REPENTREPENTREPENT_KTAHCKATSSZZZ_

"Scar…?" Ivan repeated and looked at Alfred's lower backside and found a thin, pink scar that stretched across Alfred's lower back. It was about six inches in diameter and a quarter of an inch thick. It was still scabbing over in some places.

Alfred harrumphed; feeling Ivan's traumatic stare on the scar that stained his back. Why did the man have to stare? The voices screeched even louder. He winced again, feeling his shoulders bow under pressure and his fingers clamped onto the side of metal table. The voices were now at glass-shattering records. Get away from the scar, they screeched; loud and clear as day. The static was gone and their voices bellowed away in his ear. Shrill and loud the screams were. The pain both he and them had gone through combaining into one grand ball of fire.

Then they stopped.  
And the bugs returned.

"…That is some strange scar." Ivan said softly and he turned his eyes away from the thin scar that ran along the length of Alfred's back. It was six inches in diameter and a quarter of an inch thick. The ends of the scar were a pale, white color, but the middle of it was still scabbing over and was black as the night sky. "How long have you had it?"

"It's been there," Alfred said quietly. He looked down at his hands and removed them from the table; wincing when he saw the indents in the middle. "I can't remember where it's from…"

"You don't," Ivan flicked the end of the needle and turned back to face the boy's backside.

"I don't. I think I got it when I got here…"

"Дa? Is that so?" Ivan asked and before Alfred could answer, Ivan tsked. "Well, hold on, this is going to hurt me a lot more than it hurts you."

"…Seriously?"

"No, but it's still going to hurt."

* * *

The Meetings they had were strange.

The topics they talked about ranged from politics to their own favourite types of things to do. When they talked, they became Alfred and Ivan; not Subject S-9182 and Mr. Braginsky. Their meetings had almost brought a type of joy to Alfred's week. Though, there had been quite the share of awkward conversations

"Ivan?"

"Дa?" Ivan asked. It had been their sixth meeting together. Six Fridays. Ivan was quite used to how Alfred would randomly spout out questions – whether it is of questions about his time in Russia or questions about the outside world.

All subjects could not be released to outside world – they were not ready. They were to be without human contact for all of their lives. The Scientists and Doctors fortunately could leave whenever they pleased, except for those who had homes inside the facility like himself. He could leave whenever he wanted, but he had to be watched.

"Is everything really bigger in Russia?"

Ivan could only stare seriously at Alfred. What did the boy mean? Well, Alfred could have meant a lot of things actually, like several dirty things. Which he wasn't about to disclose to anyone. Ever.

"Of course everything is bigger in Russia, дa?"

Alfred shook his head. "That's not what I mean at all. Like, the rest of us were wondering if Russian guys have bigger wangs than German guys. You know that what'shisface Prussian guy? Yeah, he said he had five meters. I don't believe him. At all."

"Oh." Well he felt quite stupid now. Still, why would Alfred want to ask him _that_ of all things? "You mean Gilbert? Дa. Indeed. He really doesn't have five meters – actually he has nowhere near five meters. It's more like…twenty centimeters."

Alfred's blue eyes showed confusion. "Really, how do you know tha – _Oh_." Realization dawned on Alfred's face and Ivan mentally swore. The boy thought he was _gay_. Damn. "Well, uh, I didn't know you swung _that _way. At all. Wow, this is awkward –" Sighing, Ivan covered Alfred's mouth with his hand and shook his head.

"нет. No where near close Alfred. No where. I don't 'swing that way' as you put it gruffly. It is more like Gilbert got drunk and gave all of us a free strip show. Don't let your mind wander on that – just _don't_. Ever."

* * *

He could feel the hands start to crawl up on him as his back faced the mirror. They were cold, they were heartless, they held no warmth or love. They weren't soft. They froze his skin with a single touch. He shivered under their frightful touch.

His life was such a roller coaster of twists and turns – he wished for the sunny warmth of America and not the cold streets of Moscow. He saw things others shouldn't. He saw the blood that stained another hands. He could tell when another lied. He closed his eyes; resting his head on his knees. He felt the pounding of his heart and his veins pulsing underneath his skin.

Some of the children here were his soltice; the way they begged and pleaded for the mercy that never came. He tortured some. He abused others. Some, he ignored. Some, he paid attention too. Some…he just saw as entertainment. That boy though was different.

He shivered as he felt the mirror start to call out his name. The other world beyond the mirror was his enemy and not his friends. He wished he could be friends with everyone at times – it would make his life easier.

The boy though was an angel sent from Hell. He brought back memories from a time all too long ago that he longed to remember. Time when the smiles were not forced and the laughter was not fake.

He shuddered. The mirror was creeping up on him. His fear of Mirrors was an irrational one, but he felt that it would suck away his already bleeding soul if he wasn't careful. The Mirror reminded him of bloody times long ago when the family had been together. When his parents and been alive and his sister hadn't been corrupted by the thought of family and greed.

Slowly, he picked himself up and draped the sheet over the mirror; feeling the voices suddenly die as he did so. He nodded to the sheet covered mirror and dragged himself to the bed. It was time to sleep anyway.

* * *

Alfred was sitting in bed; knees pulled up to his chest and his eyes squeezed shut. Kiku was sleeping soundly in his own room and he was alone. When he was left alone, the bugs found their own devices to torture him with. He had discovered that they attempted to feed him honey-drowned lies of sugar and tried to sway him with words filled with sweet nothings.

_Zzctchsaiyah_Helpyou_ctszacaaabiyzz_Letus_ctzhstchass_Protect_zatychss_You.

He clenched his knees; wincing slightly as his fingernails drew blood. He had to remember the severity of his own strength. He could seriously hurt himself if he didn't remember the severity of it all.

_Cthaaahyzch_Weareyour_byzzatchstchzzz_friend_scahstchAIYAHHcahichsssyaaaah._

The word was foreign. Foreign to all who were sub-human and test subjects. You did not have friends – you had enemies and acquaintances. Friends were myths made up by lonely children. You were all alone in this world.

Slowly, painfully, Alfred slowly drifted off into dreamland.

**XXXXX**

"_OY. Iggy~!" The voice of a a little boy laughed. There was a grunt of annoyance following soon after the little boy's laughter. _

"_Hilarious," the man named 'Iggy' said gruffly. "Just Hilarious. Just _what _are you doing out here?"_

"_It's raining, Iggy!"_

"_This is England boy – it always rains."_

Alfred could never see their faces. He could only hear their voices. The boy had such a sweet voice – a voice filled to the brim with innocence and childlike quality – and the one named 'Iggy' had such an accent. It was an English accent, but when the mysterious 'Iggy' spoke, the accent had a cynical, sharpened edge to it. The man had more than once said that he was 'a proper English gentleman', but Alfred thought that was one huge fat lie. This 'Iggy' man was more of pirate then an English Gentleman.

"_Yeah, I know –"_

"_It's 'Yes' Al. Not 'yeah' or 'yeh' or 'yep'. Honestly, where did you learn such barbaric english words?"_

"_Ha-ha! Arty, come on! Lighten up, stupidface!"_

"_You bloody wanker!" _And on cue, Arty's accent had gotten thicker as the man's irritation grew. _"Don't insult me!"_

"_Ha ha ha!" _The boy's laugh was obnoxious and full of youth. Alfred was slightly jealous – only slightly though.

"_You're just jealous that _I'm _the hero!"_

Alfred had to admit – the kid had awesome comebacks.

"_Come here you little brat–"_There was a loud "YAAAHH" and the heavy sound of two bodies hitting the ground.

"_NOOO!" _The boy yelled. "_Rape! Raaaape! Big Brother Arty is harassing me!"_

"_Quiet down, boy! Jeez, do you want me to get in trouble?"_

"…_What? Arty's in trouble! No! I'll protect you! 'Cuz I'm the hero!"_

"_Twat. Are you always so hyper?"_

"_Course I am! Ha-ha-ha! I wouldn't be awesome if I wasn't D'uh! But you know I love you Arth–"_

**XXXX**

Alfred was jerked from his dream unceremoniously as his bedroom door was slammed open. Why oh why did everyone have to be so abusive to his room. It was a modest little room – despite its messy appearance. There was a desk and chair in the corner that had more than its fair share of dirty clothes draped over it and the bookcase by the door had a fresh coat of dust covering the books that were crammed onto the shelves. His bed was a twin-sized and covered with two wool blankets that defied the laws off physics with their thickness. Stuffed animals littered the floor and the little black rug in the middle of the room was covered with random things he had accumulated over the years and was too lazy to put away. The walls were made of stone and were cold and heartless and the floor was concrete. If he didn't wear socks during the winter, his feet would freeze.

Alfred groaned; pulling the thick, wool covers over his head. There had _better _be someone dead–!

He jumped when he felt someone crawl over him; someone light and someone not of the male gender. The voices began to yell their disapproval at the obvious invasion of their host's personal privacy.

_H__tazyjigah_REMOVEHELP_satchaszzffftgrr_GETOFF_asrrasaaahhzzz_ –

The covers were pulled away from his head and the first thing he saw were dark blue eyes and platinum blond hair that reminded him way to much of Braginsky. The girl's face was set in a scowl and her hand was too close to his throat and – holy hell she had a knife. A thick, four-inch sharp as hell motherfucker of a knife.

"…Natayla…?" He asked hesitantly. He had heard about this girl. The girl from the Pain sector. P-298 or Natayla. She was quite dangerous and said to be unpredictable – as expected from someone of the Pain sector. Test subjects from that specific sector were said to have twisted forms of thinking and deranged ways of logic and actions. You couldn't put trust into the Pain sector – they were nothing but psychopathic fuckers with a high pain tolerance.

"I have discovered…" Natayla's voice was scratchy and monotone, "…that you've been hanging out with my Vanya…I do not approve."

Alfred felt the cold steel of the knife press up against his jugular and Natalya glaring at him from where sat upon his legs.

"…Who's…Vanya…?" Alfred had to shallow his breathing and slow it down to avoid pressing his Adam's apple into the sharp blade.

The knife was pressed harder into his neck. "_Ivan, _you _fool_. You moronic idiot, he is my future husband and we will get married, married, married…" Natayla's voice trailed off and Alfred shivered as the room dropped several degrees. Fuck, he was cold. Natalya spoke again.

"You've been having meetings with him, yes?"

"Of course…He's my…Doctor…"

"Does he see you naked?"

"…_What_!"

"I _asked _if he saw you naked!"

"Once – but I had to get a flesh shot – !" Alfred yelped as he was slapped by the girl. Did she just _slap _him?

Natalya scowled and then got up. She moved towards the end of the bed and grabbed Alfred's crotch through the thick, woolly blankets.

"If you touch my Ivan…" She said dangerously and she grabbed harder. "…I will cut this off before you figure out how to _use _it."

* * *

Ivan was sitting in his room; reading a book. Reading was fun except when the book was exceptionally perverted – such as the book he was reading right now. He found himself scowling at the book again and again as his eyes skimmed over the English words that raped the English language. Why was he reading this book again? Even though it was _so _terrible, he couldn't help but feel pulled into the story. The way the character spoke reminded him of himself when in the best of moods. The way the character got around in life amused him.

And the antagonist – oh, _the antagonist. _The antagonist was the same as Alfred – full of life, full of innocence corrupted by the tortures of the mind. Mixed together with the demented way of thinking and the severe personality and mood disorder, Ivan felt that if the character was an actual character, they would be the best of friends.

The antagonist and protagonist acted the same; their actions, their thought process, their motives – they were all severely similar. They acted with purpose and thought of revenge. They fought against one another for the sake of their prides; for the sake of themselves. To destroy another is to destroy yourself. For all people are the same.

Cruel, heartless, cold, plotting, revengeful, happy, sad, defensive, sympathetic – the components that made up the human kind.

Ivan was knocked out of his eventful reading time with a knock on his door. He looked up from his chair and blinked innocently. It was well into the time of night – who would visit him at this hour?

Setting his book down, he walked over to the door; wrapping his scarf tighter around his shoulders. He felt so _lonely _without it. The scarf was like a portable little friend that warmed his neck on the coldest of days. He was about to open the door when he stopped suddenly; his hand inches away from the doorknob. His inner fat Russian kid was yelling at him to not open the door.

His inner fat Russian kid was his version of what people called a 'natural instinct'. It told him when someone terrible was going to go down and told him when he shouldn't do something (which most of the time he did anyway – who was there to judge him?) and it warned him of danger.

Sighing, he opened the door and looked down.

Standing there, in front of his door, was Natayla Arlovskaya in a white wedding dress and a bouquet of sunflowers.

"Let's get married, Vanya."

* * *

**A****.n.**: My lazy ass is here. And my lazy ass apologizes for the giant fucking hiatus she's about to go on. I have finals and my lazy ass is too lazy to study for it. Oh and I'm sorry for the complete crappiness of this chapter! I'M JUST SO FEH TODAY.

Let me explain about the "_Just get the sample and don't stare at the scar – it's self-conscious."_ line.  
Alfred here is in the mindset of a twelve/thirteen year old boy just entering the throes of adolescence so he still retains some childlike qualities. Such as the fact that he treats inanimate objects as real people and isn't aware of the fact that with his words he hurts others.(AKA: Children are the cruelest of them all.) He also hasn't been introduced to any 'mature' people so he still acts like a four year old. And this is a joke about myself because I am known to treat inanimate objects as actual people. Like my USB-drive is named Alfred and Doro ended up naming my USB ports Russia/Ivan. We still feel dirty whenever we plug it in… And as you have discovered, Alfred hears the voices because of the scar.

(In my headcanon mind, the scar is from America being 'split' in half by the Civil War and in the future, the scar was covered by the tattoo of an Eagle. (Tramp Stamp FTW!) America also has a scar from 1812 on his chest and in this story as well, but is there for a completely different reason)

**My inner fat Russian kid says to review****.**


	5. Chionophobia

**Сдаваться  
**AU: _They were sub-humans in the great controller's eyes. Being only marionettes in his master plan that housed broken souls and cracked mentality, they lived for one purpose and one purpose only: To create the perfect human-being.

* * *

_

Chapter Five:  
**Chionophobia** – is a weather phobia causing an intense aversion to snow. Some even hate the snow. People with chionophobia are simply said to have a fear of snow. One of the largest components to this fear is the idea of become snowbound.

* * *

Ivan silently wished that he had actually listened to his inner fat Russian kid this time around. It always seemed to know when something terrible was about to occur. Damn karma. Just fuck his life…

He made a move to slam the door right in her pretty little face but he knew that the door would only slow her movements down and not stop her completely. Natalya countered and stuck her foot in the doorway and began to advance on the poor Russian man. Oh shit.

He really wished he had listened to his fat inner Russian boy. He could hear it now; taunting him for being so stupid. _"HaHa! Karma strikes back asshole. You wished you had listened to me now don't you? _Идиот!" He wanted to get back to his book now; he wanted to have never opened the door. He was going to be violated by an adolescent girl. Oh the shame.

"Oh, _Vanya…_" The smile she smirked was something horribly akin to an insane grin. Words of Russian and Belarusian left her mouth and she still smiled; well aware that Ivan would be able to translate the words without a doubt.

"Ya…"

"Nyet.

"…lyublyu…"

"Nyet."

"…tebya."

"Nyet! Nyet! Nyet!"

He backed up and away from the rogue test subject. He didn't want to hear those words fall from her lips. When spoken by her, they were words that promised empty things and brought pain and suffering. White dotted his vision and he could feel the cold feel of winter start to wrap around his chest; constricting his breathing with its cold feel.

The girl giggled. A noise that sounds innocent when in all truth, it is far from innocence. She reached up and grabbed his scarf and pulled him down to her height with surprising strength when it came from a girl of her size and figure.

"I gave up my mother tongue for you," The girl revealed. She giggled again. "Vanya~ Vanya~"

**xxXXXxx**

"Hey Kiku,"

The Japanese boy in question looked up to his friend after the questionable amount of silence that had passed between the two.

"H- Yes? Alfred-san?"

"Do you ever get that feeling that someone you know is about to get buttraped?"

"…No Alfred-san."

"Okay then."

**xxXXXxx**

Ivan mentally swore as she started to advance on him again. Oh his luck officially sucked as it seemed. Why did this girl have to keep chasing him?

Oh yes. She looked very much like the girl he used to cherish. Their looks were similar and if it hadn't been for the insane smile and the dead, soul-less eyes, Ivan could have easily mistaken the insane Natayla Arlovskaya for one Natasha Braginsky. But the dead could not come back to the living. It might have never been proven, but his little sister would never be returned to him.

In his hasty attempt to retreat from the girl's sudden advances, Ivan did not take notice of what was behind him and tripped over a pile of unforgotten books and hit the ground with a painful thump. Natayla advanced forward, climbing on top of him with ease.

"_You can break a mirror and put its pieces back together," _She whispered; those soulless eyes burning with a maddening desire of god knows what, _"but you will always see the cracks of your mistake._"

And it is only then he notices that he has fallen in front of his worst enemy; he has fallen in front of the mirror.

It was an accursed mystery why he still kept that godforsaken mirror in his godforsaken room in this godforsaken facility that everyone hated and in where everyone hated each other but tolerated each other presence or else they would get their sorry asses either booted or killed.

Natalya noticed the mirror and her grin seems to get even more crazy at just the sight of the ugly thing. With the rotting old wooden frame and cracked glass that was coated with grime and dust, it was the epitome of ugliness. He stared into the foggy depths, seeing his own violet eyes twisted and malformed by the glass.

Dust was falling. Dust was falling like snow.

Twirling, dancing, and twisting itself towards the ground…

_Falling…Falling…_

Snow was beautiful.  
Snow was ugly.  
Snow reflected one's true ambitions.

Snow…was cold.

_Lost in a world snow, there was no way out. _

He was lost in the mirror's grasp and the hands of the demons were pulling at his skin; trying to rip it away to get at his heart. He wouldn't let him have it. The heart was the only thing keeping him. His heart was his humanity. Without it, he was nothing. The blood thirsty demons wouldn't leave him alone; they wouldn't leave his conscience alone. They were proving that they did have an existence; that they had a spot on the plane of existence. The demons–

"My prettiest Ivan…" Her cooing brought him back to reality; the reality he wished to escape. "My prettiest, prettiest Ivan, why do you fear the snow?"

Why did he fear the snow? The Snow had just brought the cold and the freezing weather that General Winter always burdened them with. But always, such thing came at a price. It was a curse to be beautiful, Ivan knew that. Snow was beautiful and people knew that.

"But Ivan…" Natalya sighed. "I'll give you to the count of ten to kiss the bride…"

"Один," _One, two._

"Два," _He's coming for you._

"Три," _Three, four._

"Четыре," _Better Lock your door._

"Пять," _Five, six._

"Шесть," _Grab your crucifix._

"Семь," _Seven, eight._

_ "_Восемь," _Gonna stay up late._

"Девять," _Nine, ten._

"…Десять."

_He'__s killed again.

* * *

_

He woke up. His heartbeat irregular and his skin all clammy and cold like he had had his own brush with death itself. The nightmare he just had had been very similar to it though.

Ivan sighed; holding his face with his hands as he leaned back against his soft pillow. He hated this. He hated having nightmares. He hated everything about this. Especially of _her_; the girl that reminded him of what he _lost _oh so very long ago. She was the spitting image of his lost sister.

_Damn-it. _

Ivan sighed again and stood up and made his way out of the bed. From how seemingly cold it was, it was early morning and the sun's rays had yet to break the horizon. It was cold. His bare feet were freezing because he had been too lazy to put on socks last night and it may have been around five in the morning, but he had work to do for the insitute and that meant–

– Screw it. Creepy Nightmares that involved little children or not, he was going back to his bed and _staying _there. Damn it all to Hell.

* * *

Several days had come and gone since Alfred had gotten that funny feeling when he had been hanging out with Kiku during the middle of the night. Really, it wasn't strange for them to have play dates in the middle of the night because they couldn't sleep. It was a Friday now, it was the day of his appointment with Ivan. From what he had heard from the others, Ivan had been acting strange all week and seemed to be strangely out of it. Really. That creepy, _I know where you sleep _and _I'm going to rape you so good _face were even absent from his creepy face!

Therefore, it had come to Alfred's little boy logic that one Ivan–something Russian–Braginsky was sick.

And since one Alfred F. Jones was a hero, he would help take care of the sick Ivan Braginsky. Reason? Because, well, he was _freaking awesome. _And since he was the epitome of awesome, (that weird Prussian guy was _so _not more awesome than him!) Ivan Braginsky would be back to normal in no time – well as normal as Braginsky got. He'd rather have a creepy Ivan then a depressed Ivan. Some might not agree, saying that the depressed Ivan was a lot better than the creepy Ivan, but Alfred had to deal with the guy more often than others did.

So yeah, his opinion counted more. He was now sitting in the weird place he always had to go every Friday. Really, he had never even bothered to look around because the Doctor was always watching him, but now that Ivan was being all depressed _I hate my life I want to die _right now and was currently missing in action. So, he was free to wonder around!

He got off of the examining table and dropped down onto his knees and started to crawl around; peeking under dark crevices and small spaces. There was nothing really left to _do _actually considering how small the room was and that he couldn't leave.

Suddenly as he started to crawl underneath the table, he spotted something that was strangely out of place. It was gold in color and was shaped like a square. On its gold surface were three foreign words he had never ever had the pleasure of seeing before.

'_Requiescat in Pace'_

Alfred's brow burrowed. _Reque en Pasey?_

…What?

Foreign things were never his forte. He was born for strength, not brains. He was meant to be unhumanly strong and unhumanly stupid. He was just lucky enough that he knew how to spell his own name and read, let along speak utterly coherant sentances. So this whole Latin sentence Requsey en Pasey and whatever was like, utter gibbrish. Maybe he could get someone to translate and he'd be like all awesome to them because he could have found like an ancient artifact and he'd be praised for finding something so cool and not to mention–

"Alfred?"

Alfred jumped, dropping the shiny locket with a yelp.

"OH FUCK ME _YOU_ came out of _NO WHERE." _His head hit the examining table and his head started to sting. Son of a bitch, that _hurt._

"Use your big words Alfred."

"Those are big words. But anyway, why'd you sneak up all silently like that man?"

"Why are you still under the bed?"

Pulling out slowly, Alfred stuffed the locket in his pants pocket. There was no weird test shots today and thankfully no need to go around pantless.

When Alfred catches sight of Ivan, he wanted to be the awesome hero and rush over there and hug the man because it was what Heros do. Ivan looked, well, not exactly his best. He looked like crap. There were dark bags under his eyes that rivaled the color of the midnight sky and his pale skin had turned a ghastly, unhealthly white. His childish violet eyes were now dull mauve and he was hunched over; looking like he'd rather be anywhere but there.

"Whoa, just like, _whoa_. Did you…es-plode?"

"I can not deal with your idiocy today Alfred." Ivan was being blunt and straight to the point. Hmm, perhaps this was not the time to tell him about the locket.

_ASHCKTYSCKAAAH_DIE_CHHHYEEEAHSSSS_

The Voices were going utterly out of whack lately. They weren't even making coherant noises and didn't even have the right to call them bugs in a jar. He rubbed his temple and scowled.

"What the hell happened to you anyway?"

Ivan sighed. "I do not want to talk about it."

"Well, I do."

"There's a difference between what I want and what you want."

"Oh well, screw the difference. Tell me."

"…Nyet."

"That's Russian for 'totally dude! I'll tell the aweosme hero everything!', am I right?"

"No. It is Russian for 'no'."

"Not fair."

"Completely and utterly fair. I do not have time for you Al–"

Before Ivan could shoo him away, Alfred walked up and wrapped his arms around Ivan' waist; not saying a word while doing so. It was always true that actions were much louder than words. They always had been and always will be.

"Alfred…What are you doing?"

"In England's, it's called a hug."

"I know what hug is."

"You don't act like it."

A simple sentence. A simple sentence that was true.

"Alfre–"

"Just shut up and enjoy it."

Maybe he did enjoy, Alfred really never bothered to find out. He was just content with standing there and hugging Ivan whiile that hand twirled with his hair. As a twelve year old boy, this was just perfect.

* * *

Author Note's:

OH HI THAR GUYZ. NICE FOR YOU TO SEE ME AND MEIN FIVE METERS EH? –beaten-

_ILLOGICAL ERROR. PLEASE RESTART BRAIN :D_

Yeah. _Dude_. Know what I learned? THAT PEOPLE ACTUALLY KNOW ME ON FANFICTION. I mean, I had expected to be the forever internet stalker of fan fiction I had started out as, but that doesn't seem to be working too well at the moment considering everything that my informant told me. But _anyway_, this chapter was seemingly a dick to write and did not want to come easily. So in the end, I had to do what I always do and smash my keyboard and hope sensuous words are created.

And by the way, did you know Americans spell Judgement wrong? To them it's: Judgment. To the brits and the rest of the world: Judgement. ARGUMENT INVALID. I WILL GO IRON A KITTEN.

I'm sorry. You all have the permission to beat me with a pipe. I don't mind.


	6. Daemonophobia

**Сдаваться  
**AU: _They were sub-humans in the great controller's eyes. Being only marionettes in his master plan that housed broken souls and cracked mentality, they lived for one purpose and one purpose only: To create the perfect human-being._

* * *

Chapter Six:  
**Daemonophobia** - a persistent, abnormal, and _unwarranted fear_ of demons, despite conscious understanding by the phobic individual and reassurance by others that there is no danger.

* * *

**Somewhere in England, 1875**

Augustus glared at the vase sitting on the wooden desk before him; his elbows on the table and his chin resting on the backs of his folded hands. The vase was such a pretty colour; a pretty colour of earth brown with a strange swirling pattern that twisted up the side like a snake. Sitting in the vase was a set of beautiful blood red roses. Thirteen beautiful blood red roses to be specifically exact.

He had long ago learned that having an even amount of flowers meant bad luck and death. Russians often gave even numbered sets of bouquets at funerals.

He scowled as one of the perfectly aligned blood red roses shifted slightly and ruined the entire picture of the flowers. He hated things that were out of order; it irked him to no end. It was so..._un-orderly. _He couldn't stand things when they were out of place. It reminded him of** that** **man **and **that time** oh so very long. Of a time he'd very much like to erase from his memory.

He created this facility to erase men like that from the world today. Everyone would become like that man – it was something that could not be evaded for long. That man was the reason he was doing all this. Why he was spending so much time killing children to create a perfect human; why he was doing all of this in first place. That man, that man _Julius_, was the source of his problems. But he was dead now. He'd forever be dead – he made sure that Julius Vargas would never ever take another breath of life ever again. Augustus' only ideal problem now was to make sure another Julius Vargas never walked the Earth. And the only way to do that was to create a perfect human being whose priority was to live a perfect life and not a distraught and wild one like the Vargas man's had been..

People liked to make fun of him. They made fun of his long hair, made fun of his stern expression, made fun of his full name, made fun of his attitude and ways of thought, and they especially made fun of the nickname he had given himself while running the facility. The Controller. The Master. The left hand of God! His full name was Augustus Gabriel Weilschmidt and he was a proud man of German heritage. He sighed in content as he engulfed the fact that he was surrounded by perfect, _perfect _silence.

There were morons everywhere in the facility he ran. Some of them possessed some form of genius and that was the reason he allowed them to work in the facility he ran, but for all the other large amount of morons he allowed to work in his presence was mainly to keep a rather watchful eye on them. He did not want anyone to discover what he was doing just yet. The Queen could not know of his plans just yet.

Augustus gave a sigh and stood up from his chair before walking over to the mahogany bookcase filled to the brim with old looking books and famous works of literature. He didn't know most of them though – they were just there for decoration. The man pushed it away, revealing a barred iron door and a glass window that was made of the best unbreakable materials of the time. The door was the best money could pay for.

"You…" He said quietly, staring at the being who sat behind the glass. "You hold the key to eternal life…" Pale fingers who had not seen the sun in years brushed faintly over the glass. "What is your secret?"

A giggle answered him and the faintest sound of a song could be heard.

"_Heaven hides no…thing in its measure, mortal men blind-ed by false treasurrrre... Form'ess and vanquished we shall travel. Shield and faith will guide our bat...tle."_

Fingers clenched as he scowled deeply, once again disappointed at the lack of an answer. The boy said nothing of his secret of eternal life. No words were said about he could recover from wounds that were said to be fatal and he said nothing about how he never grew and how his appearance stayed the same.

Immortality was the gift this boy possessed. The last and only subject in Sector Zero. This was the boy that would make all his years of endless research become true. The last secret for the perfect, unbreakable human laid dormant within the silent boy.

"_The echoing... sing-ing voice of birds gone m-mad…"_

All the boy did was sing. He sang of words that made no sense. They must of been fragments of songs that he had heard over his life time. Really, the boy was an utter paradox. He looked the same way he did when he arrived. Small, tiny, blond and purple-eyed. Sure, he had grown an inch here and there but he stayed small in size and just sat there, huddled up in the corner; blank, dead eyes long void of any emotion staring forward and white, skinny arms wrapped protectively around a white fluffy bear that had not left his grip the day he had been shoved in there.

Eight years had it been since he had found the boy. He did not know his name, his birthdate, his I.Q. or even if he was capable of speaking normally.

He stared at the boy again, whose mouth was forming words in silence as if singing along with a song only heard within the others head. The boy's blond head turned and those violet eyes stared at him with a very dead expression.

"_Just... two s-sorrow-ful people. Even dr-dreams are for-gotten."_

The German man huffed and moved away, pushing the bookcase back in front of the door with ease. Those words were always uttered right at the very end as if he was trying to convey some message to Augustus. Only if he would _speak _and not sing. Then maybe he would get somewhere.

_Just two sorrowful people. Even dreams are forgotten._

The words rang in his head anyhow. Why? What did they mean? It wasn't as if he could rush in there and literally slap the answers out of the boy. He had someone try that before. It did not end prettily.

The blond had freaked, kicking and screaming and clawing and biting at anything he could reach. He flailed and flailed, slapping away the hands that tried to reach for him and kicking at anything that came too close.

And as quickly as it had been sprung on them, it as quickly had ended as well. The boy had stopped completely and his body had shut down, completely freezing over like a block of ice and curling up in a ball; doing nothing but just laying there in a vegetable-like state.

He didn't move for hours and didn't wake up until far much later. The boy did not do anything then; acting like the situation had never happened and just curled up in the corner, keeping his stuffed animal tight to his chest.

Augustus sighed. It didn't matter for now. A subject change was well needed at this point. Maybe it was time he paid a visit to Julius Vargas's grandson...

Nodding with his decision to pay a visit, he reached around and fixed the roses before grabbing his tan lab coat and exiting the room.

Inside the white room, the blond lifted his head and stared at the ceiling. For a moment his violet eyes went cold and he smiled briefly.

"_...Lead us from chaos we shall follow; bear us to a bright tomorrow..."_

* * *

Maria could only watch her roommate storm around the room quietly, not really being able to do anything without ending up getting herself in trouble with the other. Her roommate may have been quiet, but she was tearing the room apart. Things were being thrown here and there, lamps with unlit candles were being pushed open, books ripped and shoved everywhere. Maria kept having to dance about the room to avoid the girl's violent path of rage.

Suddenly, Maria could not take any more. With a sudden amount of courage, she stepped forward and straight into her roommate's path and grabbed her by the shoulder. "Oy, amiga. What's your sudden _problemo?_ Talk!"

Natalya looked at Maria with an odd madness floating in her icy blue eyes. It was no wonder most people thought that all people of the Pain sector were monsters.

To a point, they were monsters. What, truly, what was left of their humanity? Everything that made them weak was stripped from them. They could no longer feel love, no longer feel pain, sorrow, hunger, weakness. Even the emotion of mercy was lost to them.

That's what made them invalid. She and her, Maria Gomez and Natalya Arlovskaya, were invalid because they could not feel mercy. They were merciless. A true perfect person needed to feel mercy; to show that even they were capable of such things. Unfortunately, they had lost those things so long ago. Not due to the experiments, no. To themselves. They lost the ability to feel to their own mind. It had been swallowed whole by the darkening pit within themselves.

It was not only that. They all thought they were mad. But, after living in such a vile place as this, who would not have gone mad? Going mad was easy in her opinion – it was just accepting it that is the true problem.

They were insane, that was the excuse. They were due for execution any day.

Natalya shouted something in a language Maria did not understand and threw the book she had in her hands down on the floor. "It is him! That idiot! HIM!"

"Chica, calm down. Who?"

Natalya seethed violently, her whole form visibly shaking. "_Alfred_."

Maria narrowed her brown eyes. That little moron was fooling around with her roommate? "What did he do?"

But Natalya did not answer. Instead the girl whipped around, her silver-blonde hair nearly smacking Maria, and had begun to tear up the shared room once more. Maria twitched and stepped forward to grab at Natalya but was instead backhanded across the face. She couldn't feel the stinging pain that she was supposed to feel with a slap, of course, but the effect of it hit home hard enough.

Natalya let forth a scream and collasped to her knees in a fit of rage. Foreign words spit forth and she had begun tearing at her hair. Maria immediately attempted to hush her up with calm words and aggrated movements. Natalya was being far too loud. Extremely so. The guards would discover that they were not asleep if the girl kept up her loud raging. The time before their execution would be shortened once again if she were to be caught.

The Mexican took Natalya to her small chest and attempted to calm her down. The other's screams had faded into sobs and her shuttering had collapsed into depressed trembling.

"It's him..." She whispered sadly. "It's him..."

"Alfred?"

"He's destroying my happiness...He's destroying my love!"

"For who?"

Natalya lifted her head and clutched at Maria. "_Vanya_. He's come to take Vanya! He's going to steal my Vanya! I cannot let him! Me and Vanya are going to get married! Alfred cannot interfere. He must die...He must die...He must die...!"

"Shhh, shhh. They'll hear you!"

The girl's eyes widened and she clutched even tighter at the other. "We must kill him."

"That's a bit harsh–"

"But you hate him too don't you? Alfred. You _hate _him too. We must get rid of him. He's obsolete. You know what they say about him." Natalya tilted her head and leaned back. "That he's a monster. That he's apart of all the reason that everyone is here. That...he's related to _you know who_."

"Those are just rumours."

"But every rumour has a little bit of truth doesn't it?" She whispered. "Come on Maria. Let's kill him. He's obsolete. He's a _demon_. He must die...He must die..."

"Murder is wrong!"

"But we're not human. Do mortal laws _apply _to us?"

Natalya, Maria must admit, had a point. That had been taught all their life that they were only sub-human. They had no place in society! That is why they were in the research facility. Society had donated them all to creating a better human.

"We must murder him." Natalya told her. "We must save us all. He must be killed. He's a whore, a slut and dirty liar. He is at fault for all our problems. For that, _ he must die_."

"...Yes..."

"Remember, _hell hath no fury like a woman scorned."_

And she was painfully right.

* * *

Alfred found himself awaking with a silent gasp; a sudden deep wave of pain rolling through his body and causing his back to arch off the bed in silence. He squeezed his eyes shut, mindful of the tears wishing to escape. The sudden onslaught was painful. He felt like he was being torn apart from the inside and someone was setting fire to his pale skin

He arched again, nearly doing another perfect rainbow before collapsing in exhaustion. Words echoed in his mind but they were not English. He did not know them. They were not the voices, nor were they the bugs coming back with a painful vengeance. Foreign words with foreign symbols floating to mind.

In a sheer moment of desperation, Alfred figured that he could not let these symbols escape him. They were important. He ripped off his shirt and bit down on his arm, not letting go until he felt blood spit forth. Alfred spread the torn cloth down the cold floor and began drawing the symbols. He did not know what language these symbols came from but they definitely meant something. They were the translation of the words that ran violently through his mind.

Minutes later, he was done. The foreign symbols were carefully drawn onto his torn shirt with his own spoiled blood.

あなただけ今も (最初からいつも)  
壊れずにいること (二人で一つの)  
卑怯な私の (わたしたちだから)  
唯一の望み (一人で立てない)

He attempted to read them, but he already knew what they said. He already knew that they connected to someone here; someone he did not know.

"Do not stand as two..." Alfred repeated numbly. "Do not stand as two..."

* * *

Author's Notes:

Two different songs there.

"_Heaven hides no…thing in its measure, mortal men blind-ed by false treasurrrre... Form'ess and vanquished we shall travel. Shield and faith will guide our bat...tle." "...Lead us from chaos we shall follow; bear us to a bright tomorrow..." - _Take me Away by Globus

"_The echoing... sing-ing voice of birds gone m-mad…""Just... two s-sorrow-ful people. Even dr-dreams are for-gotten." - _Dance Site of Darkness by Kagamine Rin and Len [Warning: Do not listen to this with headphones on loud. Rin KILLS your hearing. She's good, just some really high notes thar.]

UH. I guess I really don't have an explanation. I'm very tempted to drop this, or at least start over with a new plot. But if I did that - I'd never update. At least this one is still around.

Lack of beta means mistakes of mine. DERP.


	7. Discontinuation

Author's Note:

Really, I bet that you already all know what this amirite? Well I'm not going to lie – It's exactly what it appears to be.

A discontinuation note from theevilmuffintoaster.

I've never bee one for this type of thing especially since it's against FFNET regulations/rules and especially after I turned over a new life from my weeaboo days.

But it is what it is.

Let's just face that fact here and now. And while we are facing that fact, we should also face a few others: This story was going no where. Really, I did think that I was going to finish but I never did even though I had it all written since the start.

To be honest, I really was looking forward to finishing it. I was _really _looking forward to the second and third part where Arthur plays a seriously large role and the hidden past is revealed.

But I haven't the time and energy. I manage my oneshots quite fine but I think I'm just not pressured by the idea that _holy shit, I have to push out more of these. _That stress seems to keep me from writing anything relating to this.

And if any of you oddballs 'want' this. I'll gladly give it to you and pm/email you the plot components. But no one is going to want it but I'm offering it anyhow. Why would they? Looking back on it – It's a rather poor portrayal of my writing up until the sixth chapter. And that one isn't that great either, even though it's rather recent.

To be honest, this probably would have never happened had it not been for the news that I'm retiring the TheEvilMuffinToaster account – a fact that I'm not proud of at all.

But it's happening and I regret it not happening sooner. (well mostly because I have those Globus oneshots planned/half written and no way to post them but hey, I'll find a way. Rather I'll post the when they're done on this account and see what occurs). But hey, I'll still login and stuff. My favourites are still all on this account. Fuuu–

Thank you for bearing with me this entire time for those who did. This is hard for me you know? Mostly because I have to part with the idea of TEMT one last time.

Too many people know me and their knowledge is not a good thing. Now the idea of me despising their knowledge of me is rather odd but their knowledge is _bad _knowledge. Rather, its the knowledge of my weeaboo writing which I recently found out _is still out there ldejgeklgje _(and so is the proof of the terror I once unleashed.)

I'm past that now but they're not. So yeah, Ill give up this acccount. We've had some good times guys. I've see the birth of this random and I hope to see its decline soon.

Thanks for everything guys. I kinda wish I had gotten to see this story to the end but guess not.


End file.
